Who Wrote This?

I am not a fan of almost anything top 40, but I do like to know what's going in the music world. As of late there's been one man that keeps popping up on the top 40 that just knows how to push my buttons in all the wrong ways. That man is Kanye "Owe My Jaw" West. Currently, he's a featured artist in a song by a lady calling herself Estelle. The song is called "American Boy" and I put the youtube video below. Something about the song has been nagging at me. Estelle's chorus sounds freakishly like an 80's synth-pop song. I don't know which one specifically, but it sounds like it could have been Blondie, or even Tom Tom Club. I was doing some research and supposedly it's all original though. I don't know, either way, as much as I may not like it, it's very catchy. Damn you MR. WEST!

To Be or To Act

Recently I've been asking myself a question: Am I a nice person? And I really don't know the answer. I'm not sure which part of not knowing worries me more, the simple fact that I don't know for sure, or the chance that I'm not a nice person. I want to be a kind person. I think. If I say I want to be something, I want to know what that something involves. I wouldn't go out of my way to apply for a job which has a nice sounding title, but requires that which I do not have. I have thoughts all the time about how little I think of a person, or how unimpressive I think they are. When I actually talk to them however I'm going out of my way to be as understanding and non judgmental as I can. Is kindness simply a matter of editing what you're actually thinking? Is it really editing, or are you being dishonest with yourself or that person? Isn't dishonesty usually looked upon as unkind? When we meet people, is our initial processing of assessing a persons personality merely trying to figure out how dishonest we need to be with them? Is a persons kindness measured by how willing they are to do things they don't want to do and not complain about it? There is a time and place for being courteous, but I certainly don't want people bullshitting me? Or do I? Do I want people to just be so good at bullshitting that I have no idea what their true feelings are? Is ignorance really bliss?

Hey, College! You Hear Me?!

This quote is actually from an old blog post I made in late 2004. The original blog post has been re-posted in the blog post below. Who's on first? There is one quote towards the end of that old post that still perfectly sums up my feelings about school.

I'm not here to impress anyone, I'm here because I want to fucking learn a trade, apply it to real life, make some money, and fucking retire so I can go back to what I was doing before you took all my fucking money

It still makes me laugh.

Reflections: Ahhhhhhh crap....

I was going through an old blog/journal. First thing I noticed is that I swore, a lot. Second thing is how different I feel, while at the same time, how similar I feel. I think I found the perfect post that sort of sums up my education.

Blog post by me, JD Forslin on Thursday, December 9th 2004 at 3:44am. For a little context, this is just about 6 months after I graduated from high school and I'm almost finished with my first semester at NMU, and anyone who knows me knows how that ended. Also, there are a lot of run on sentences. You have been warned.

3:55a - welcome to the AM
It's late... or early, whatever, I'm tired, but I can't sleep. I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking about how stupid I have been. The whole time this semester whenever I wouldn't do a piece of homework or whatever I would be saying to myself "you'll regret this later, you are SO going to regret this later" and I am, I'm regreting every single time I did something where I said that to myself, I'm regreting everytime that happened in the last FIVE YEARS! What have I made of myself? Do I even know? Not really... top 5 dream jobs: 1. Rich 2. Panda Breeder 3. Film Director 4. Script Writer 5. Archeologist . What am I currently majoring in? Art and Design... what the fuck am I doing there, when I turn in a piece of work and people start telling me what's wrong with it, it's like they are saying my opinion is wrong... if I fucking meet the requirements for the piece, then it should be a fucking A++++, not "well, I think it would have looked better with a big shit stain on it", oh, I didn't realize we were being graded on our taste in color. My History class "Alright class, here is the powerpoint, copy it down word for word as a recite it to you, and no it will not be available online because it is cheating to review and study, and if you are sick... then you are cheating, so eat shit and start copying". My math class "Me make funny joke, me coach for volleyball team, me likey bouncy me likey bouncy". My computer science class "I turned this into you a week early because I was having some trouble with it and I was wondering if you could look it over" techer: "Okay, so what's the problem" JD: "That's why I submitted to you to look at, because I don't know" teacher: "Oh, well I'll take a look at it while I'm stabbing you in the back and pretending to teach" JD: "acctually you already saw it, and you graded it, even though the project isn't due for a fucking week and I was asking for help" teacher: "...." (walks away) ... FYI, that computer science thing I just told you about really did happen to me. I don't care about the grade... well obviously I care somewhat, but I just want to learn this shit, I want to be a fucking smarter person, FOR REAL, not on fucking paper. "JD, you're grades are slipping" NO SHIT, I'm not learning anything "well, that's not my problem, you aren't just exerting yourself, you should study more and research more" "if I have to do all that, WHAT THE FUCK am I paying you for? For you to tell me that my grades are slipping? To make stupid jokes for 10 minutes at the beginning of class? To FUCKING walk away when I ask you for help? To make a joke about my last name sounding like the skin surrounding your tiny dick?! WHAT THE FUCK!!!! I'm not here to cause problems, I'm not here to meet new people, I'm not here to go to wild parties, as a matter of fact, the only parties I've ever been to are band parties, I'm not here to impress anyone, I'm here because I want to fucking learn a trade, apply it to real life, make some money, and fucking retire so I can go back to what I was doing before you took all my fucking money". I've never drank alcohol illegally, I've never done any illicit drugs (the illegal ones), I've never been pulled over by a cop, I don't go to parties, I prefer a quiet night at home then going out, I listen to Fleetwood Mac and Frank Sinatra (I also listen to Megadeath, Cradle of Filth, and a bejesus load of other music, so music doesn't count), and look how I turned out, I turned out struggling in college, working at a gas station, and talking to a computer at 4am in my fucking underwear. Was it worth it? I don't have any stories to tell anyone, no cool stories about getting drunk then having sex with the cheerleader, I've never skipped a class, I don't have a ton of drinkin buddies. I stayed straight and narrow all this time, and look where it has gotten me... something is wrong. w00t!

Give 'Em Something To Talk About

When I talk to people about how their lives are going, and how they've been doing, the conversation inevitably leads to relationships. Rarely does anyone have anything good to say. Part of me just doesn't want to hear about the hook-ups, break ups, let downs, and bastard men. But another part of me, maybe the masochistic part, wants to hear every gory detail. As these things go, I actually do want to talk about it. I want to know that I'm not crazy. I want to know that is all those other jerks fault. I want to know that for all the bitches, and all the bastards in the world, I'm just fine. I want to know that other people have hit the shit. I want to know that it hurts. But I want them to be happy. I want to be happy. I want to know that they're going to be happy. I want to know that there aren't any bitches or bastards left. I want to know that there was some kind of toxin released into the air and all the asses are dead, and all that remains are the cool people. When I decided that I was going to start writing in my blog again, I told myself that I wasn't going to talk about this crap anymore. Here we are though. Maybe because it's a universal truth that relationships can suck. But however rare it may seem to me know, I would also like to believe their is a universal truth to be found in the happy couple. Ah well, I'll let ya know when I get there.

Learning To Accept

Being back in Marquette has made me realize some things. I used to come back and people would be in the same place they were when I left. Doing the same thing, drinking the same drinks, eating the same foods, laughing at the same jokes. I used to think "How sad, they're still here, I'm trying, but they're just lying down and taking it." I'm realizing how incredibly insensitive I was being. Whatever their life is, it is their life to live, and they seem happy. Maybe I'm the sad one always reaching for the next thing, rather than being happy with what is right in front of me. I don't want it to sound like it's good to let go of your dreams or to give up, but if your happy, be happy. Who am I to feel sadness for someone who has found happiness. They've found it. It's not what I want, but why can't I just be happy for someone simply because they're happy. Why do I always feel the need to quantify someone's success? Why do I need to assign achieved degrees, and job titles to someone to prove to myself that they're happy? Just because they don't have some things, doesn't mean they don't have it all. I apologize.

The Business Of Taking Pictures

I've been on a couple of trips recently. I've noticed a few things. One: I like being on vacation. Two: A lot of pictures are taken. I'm fine with picture taking, in fact I'm usually doing a good percentage of the photography. Have, however, digital cameras or cameras in general become a substitute for experience? I've noticed people will get to whatever destination, make sure everyone is photographed in that spot then they move on. It seems like the more important thing has become the photographic evidence of your being there, rather than your own experience. I was recently traveling with my brother and his girlfriend and we went on a bike ride and she would stop frequently to take a picture of us, or the scenery, then move on. After the ride was over we loaded up the bikes into the van and headed off. On the trip home she was looking through the pictures she just took, reminiscing over them as if they were some distant memory. I don't doubt she had a genuine lasting experience, but will she remember the place or the pictures more? I will admit to taking pictures with the specific purpose of uploading them to facebook just to show others that I did something or for my profile picture. I've really noticed a disconnect when I'm filming an event or something. I really just want to put my camera down and relax like everybody else. The weird thing about pictures though is that we try make them appear as if everything is business as usual someone just happened to taking a picture. Ah well. C'est La Vie... or something.